The Island of Death's Doctor
by elisteran
Summary: Genma and Ranma's training trip headed for China several years earlier than in canon. Unfortunately, Genma may have overestimated Ranma's preparedness, when a storm arises...


The Island of Death's Doctor   
  
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The storm blew angry winds across the frigid sea, producing large dips and swells, sliding ships across the sea's surface like bugs clinging to a table cloth being yanked off a table. Those ships that were able were making their way to port, or heading further out to sea... the authorities were warning that this was going to be one of the worst storms in years.  
  
The ships the authorities were warning had radios. The fish didn't get the benefit of mankind's meteorological prowess -- any more than the two humans swimming in the ocean did. It was actually impressive, the speed they were making in the water; they were almost making progress against the turbulent waves.  
  
The storm's sheer scale could not be denied. The two men were getting steadily swept further and further from land. As they realized it, they reversed direction, attempting to return to the small island they had started from. But by this point they were miles out to sea, and had no further luck. The winds picked up, impossibly, and the waves continued to crash, pushing the figures further and further from land.  
  
Some hours later, the waves pushed the two ashore a beach on a small island. The rosy-fingered dawn breaking over the ocean illuminated the scene, showing a wide expanse of sea and no other land in sight. On the beach, a stout man lay unconscious next to a small boy, about six years old. Their clothing, tattered and soaked as it was, was nonetheless recognizable as martial arts uniforms.  
  
"Wake up, Ranma. We've got to get to shelter," the man weakly said. But he summoned his strength, and rolled towards his son. "Come on, boy, this is no time for sleeping." His voice was filled with bravado, but, in reality, the man was concerned that it might have been a little too early in his son's training to do a transoceanic trip.  
  
"Ranma! Wake up!" The man slapped him several times; the boy's skin looked a little gray in the early light, and felt a bit chill from the spray of water lapping against the beach. Panic threatened to overwhelm the man, but his hard-earned survival skills came to the fore. "All right, Ranma, I'll just move you over here underneath the shade, and you can sleep for a while longer." The man's voice had softened as he spoke; he was gentle moving his sleeping son off the coral-sanded beach, and into a forested area some yards away. He arranged some branches over his son's body as shelter, before returning to the beach to survey where they were and what the next goal was.  
  
The sea was a brilliant blue away from the shore; it was easy to pretend that the storm had never happened. But there was no sign of other land, nor any sign of human activity. Grunting ruminatively, the man stripped off the tattered remnants of his gi, and plunged into the water.  
  
After some time of vigorous activity, he emerged, carrying a shark draped across his broad shoulders. "Ha! Ranma, time to eat. And then we can be back on our way to China." If you don't know where you are, just pick a direction and move towards it. As a life philosophy, it had served Genma Saotome well.  
  
But when he made his way back to his sleeping son, Genma found that the meal might have to wait. The only sign of the sleeping body were some bent grasses, and the occasional footprint on the forest floor. "I'll save you, Ranma -- nobody's taking you from me that easily!"  
  
Of course, he didn't see the abductor anywhere close, and if a fight lay ahead, it was important that he prepare for it. So it was with a heavy heart that he forced himself to go back to the beach and prepare a fire to cook the shark.  
  
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Miles away, earlier that morning, two very different figures had had a confrontation in a subdued fortress hidden against the semi-tropical vegetation. A man stood trembling before his dark master.  
  
"Sir, I think you'll be pleased."  
  
The shadowed figure said nothing.  
  
"A distant acquaintance had sent me some flowers last year to mark the beginning of spring. They wilted, under your... less beneficial influences?"  
  
The figure's eyes glinted, seeming almost red in the dim light; the mouth obviously tightened into a grimace.  
  
"Ah, right, sir. I froze them here in this freezing chamber when they arrived, until just yesterday. Using this concoction of electricity and ester of carbonate, I have managed to reverse the flow of time itself!" A rose in full bloom was produced, accompanied by a slightly... manic... laughter. "It is now perfect! It will never wilt, it will never decay... time is a stream that passes this floating flower by!"  
  
"Tofu, my good doctor, you do sometimes impress me." The voice was a tremendous basso, tons of earth piling over a listener and burying him in the depths. "But what do I care for a flower? What have you done with animals?"  
  
Dr. Tofu gulped. "Sir, I... I ... no." His voice was weak and tremulous by comparison. "I can reverse the final transition, but animals are affected by some different mechanism. I'm close, though, I know I am!"  
  
The dark man turned away emphatically. "Very well. I am nothing if not patient. Your time does draws nigh, however."  
  
Before the man could leave, Tofu called after him. "Sir, I did... you know, the... the flower is in bloom!"  
  
The man's amusement was clear. "Yes, it was. Very well; this may not win you my daughter's hand, but you may have one date with her tonight."  
  
"Oh, Betty-chan!" Tofu sighed, his determination fired anew at the possibility that he would soon be seeing his bony love.  
  
And that was why he had gone out walking to contemplate his research, and stumbled across a body hidden in the grass. A trickle of that spirit had given him the energy to hoist it, and return to his laboratory. "I've just enough time to prepare him, and then I'll go get ready." He began to get out his surgical equipment, whistling a tune that had been very popular with the Emperor when he was at court. "Let's try implanting a few of these electrical contraptions inside the major muscles, I think."  
  
Sadly, thinking soon was one of the furthest things from his mind. Through the thick glass window on his laboratory door, a shadow appeared.  
  
"Oh, Betty! What a surprise to see you here!" Tofu's gaze lost focus, and he began blindly hacking away at his involuntary patient. Batteries of chemical containers quickly vanished from his workbench. "Not that I'm surprised, of course, why wouldn't you be here? Let me just clean up the lab a bit, ha ha." He plugged an extension cord somewhere into Ranma's body, and began attempting to vacuum his lab with it.  
  
"Oh, Tofu, you're silly. I just came to tell you that dinner is ready. And,... be sure to wear something extra nice for our date." The salacious wink that accompanied this wasn't visible behind the door, but was very audible.  
  
So it was little surprise that Tofu became tangled up with the body he was swinging around and threw himself into the wall, before slumping unconscious to the floor. As he did, his foot fell against one of the many devices in the lab, which ran a bolt of energy up the extension cord into Ranma's dead body.  
  
This was the scene when Genma snuck his way into the fortress. Clinging to the roof, he had made his way through the surprisingly lifeless corridors. "Ranma!" the man shouted happily. He swung down and grabbed the small body of his son, ignoring the still-closing surgical scars and somewhat gray skin. "Let's get out of here."  
  
When Tofu awoke several hours later, he discovered a cooling plate of food had been set on his table, with a brief note. "I guess you didn't want to go on our date after all," it began. "That's all right; I know you only were interested in me to keep Father happy. There's no need to force yourself to spend any more time with me." The words following this were blotted, as if splattered with salt water.  
  
Tofu crumpled the paper in his hand, knowing in his heart someone out there had committed a great evil upon him, and vowing vengeance.  
  
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OK, this is a somewhat spamficcish introduction to a lighthearted story which I probably won't get around to finishing in the short-term future. Blame this, if you want, on watching too much Detective Conan recently; I started wondering about a chibi-zombie Ranma. If anybody would like to use this as a premise, feel free.  
  
To give a quick status report of my other projects: I have about 3k (of probably 5k total this chapter) words of shattered pieces chapter 4, but I had to stop because I was losing the sense of the characters. I've started rewatching season 1, and I think that's helping. I'm also trying to finish up more of the fragments I've started at various times; so maybe I'll get some completion momentum.  
  
This fic is an attempt at integrating scenes into the prose (without explicit scene demarcation), and I'd particularly like to know peoples' opinions of that.  
  
The title is a play on Gene Wolfe's collection The Island of Dr Death and Other Stories and Other Stories, which contains, among other things, the stories "The Island of Dr Death and Other Stories", "The Death of Dr. Island", and the "The Doctor of Death Island". 


End file.
